


when you look in my eyes, you'll find the pleasure is mine.

by cinnamonvibes



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 10:43:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8369221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamonvibes/pseuds/cinnamonvibes
Summary: “Cat Grant, queen of all media, thinks ‘do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again’ is a perfectly acceptable pickup line. Probably thinks it’s a great pickup line.” Kara snorts, feels bold by the press of Cat’s hand against her knee. “Now, me?” Kara may not be under the influence of alcohol, but Cat’s intoxicating on her own - like a personal brand of whiskey, aged just for her.She moves closer, allows her shoulder to rub against Cat’s, Kara’s hair acting as a cascade of blonde shielding them from the outside and creating a bubble just for them. “If I were interested, very interested, I’d say… kissing is the language of love, so how about a conversation?”(set during and after cat/kara get drinks in season 1, episode 6: red faced.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Someone submitted this domesticity meme into my askbox and asked for supercat, so I was more than happy to oblige. Consider this a deconstructed fic, where each chapter will answer a few different lil prompts. :)

**Who accidentally pushes a door instead of pulling/vice versa:**

* * *

Alex jokes that their impromptu bonding session reads an awful lot like a _date_ , but she texts back in a jiffy that _cat grant is soooo not the type to take a girl to a bar. lol_

 _yeah, and clumsy kara danvers soooo isn’t supergirl. you’d be surprised ;)_ Alex replies.

And, by then Cat Grant is leading her through the bullpen and into her private elevator, forcing the phone into her pocket. She’s whisper-yelling words of advice already, peppering her achievements in small successions, and rapidly endorsing the idea of feminism in her head long before they’re in a town car on their way to Noonan’s.

Cat is well primped, hands folded against her lap, and Kara has yet to say a word, but she likes  _this_. Likes that Cat has taken time out of her day, has literally asked Kara to clear her schedule, to offer words of wisdom in a moment that’s dire. Kara is lost, confused in a world that seems to only take, and offer no replenishment in return. It’s killing her.

“Kiera, the _door_.” Kara’s broken from her stupor, and she’s whisking out with lightning speed the moment the door shuts behind her to hold open a path for Cat. She offers her arm, too, allowing Cat to use her as a crutch upon entering the cool atmosphere presenting itself on National City for the night.

“After you, Miss Grant.” Kara says, and she follows dutifully until the glass doors of Noonan’s are within vision. Cat’s hips sway side to side, but she’s picking up a speed that tells Kara she wants to open the doors herself. So, Kara lets her, because Cat Grant is a woman of her own duty.

When she wraps delicate fingers against a metallic bar and pulls –

– it’s to no avail.

She huffs, and Kara snorts. Like, a pig munching on slop would snort, but the pointed look sent her way is enough to silence her _immediately_. Kara offers her a smile fitted with teeth and then moves in between her and the door, pushing it open with a mere tap of her shoulder.

Cat looks downright offended, but she doesn’t press a comment on the issue, just simply bumps her own shoulder into Kara’s menacingly and starts to speak.

“See _that_? I had every intention to be absolutely appalling to you for your little…” Cat looks at her, follows after Kara and sits beside her at the bar. “ _Shenanigans_. But we’re here not to speak about how sunny Danvers might be the saving light of chivalry, but that women are, unfortunately, at the mercy of men in this patriarchal scum of a world we call Earth.”

So, Kara listens. Watches as Cat Grant downs martini after martini, and speaks stories that have, without a doubt, eaten away at her conscious forever. She learns of men half her caliber rising to the top in a third of the time it took her. The tears glisten in her eyes as she recalls the degradation she faces, and then she tilts her head back and downs the entire martini.

“Here’s the thing, Kiera. Everybody gets angry…”

-

They’re–well, _Cat_ is–six martinis in when the slur of Cat’s words is in an indicator that she’s had enough. Kara’s sober, obviously, but she feigns the dizziness and loops her arm with Cat’s to help her up.

“Miss Grant,” she starts, easily processing her weight and allowing her the option to walk comfortably - even in her mildly drunken stupor. Cat leans into her, buries her nose against her chest and nods in reply. “You’re drunk. I’m going to get you home.”

She reaches for her cell phone in her pocket, and gasps softly when Cat places her hand over Kara’s, effectively stopping her. “Hold on,” Cat says, looking up with glossed emerald eyes. “I just… wanna look at you for a second, _Kara_.”

The name slips from her mouth with such a scratchy timber it makes Kara shiver. Her glasses droop against the bridge of her nose, and Kara’s just about to reach up and push them higher up, but Cat beats her to it. She, gingerly, presses the lead based glasses up Kara’s nose, and then drags the tip of her thumb against the curve of Kara’s forehead, until her hand is essentially cupping Kara’s cheek. Their eyes lock.

“You’re so beautiful.” Cat murmurs, “I thought you should know that James Olsen is an amazing photographer, but an absolute imbecile.”

Kara’s breath is lodged in her throat, and she wants to ask what Cat’s intentions are, or what she even means, but words fail her. Kara’s thought of James Olsen every day for the past week, but with Cat Grant in her arms speaking slews of character defamation, Kara’s starting to question whether James Olsen really is worth the emotional turmoil. She can hear Cat’s rapid heart beating, and she wonders if Cat’s built up courage to tell her this, or if it’s the alcohol that’s showcasing an adrenaline rush.

Cat smiles to herself more than she’s smiling at Kara, then closes her eyes. Kara gets them out onto the street, looks both ways, and then flies up into the sky to deliver Cat to her penthouse just down the street.

She spends 45 minutes on the edge of Cat’s bed, listening to her heartbeat go from rapid palpitations to contained thumps that let her know Cat is asleep. But, more importantly, that she’s _okay_.

* * *

**Who doodles little hearts all over the desk with their initials inside them:**

* * *

Kara isn’t surprised when the first words Cat Grant tosses her way after the prior night is _Advil_ , followed surprisingly by a _please_. She stands, with the iPad against her chest, arms hugging it closely as a defense mechanism. Cat hardly seems to notice her displeasure, she’s merely tending to the hangover that has her head buzzing, as she so sourly puts it.

“God, and it didn’t occur to you to stop me after the third drink? My head is _pounding_.” Cat closes her eye, nurses her head by placing the wet wash cloth provided by Kara the moment she walked into her office. “Outside, into the balcony. Chop chop, Kiera.”

Kara’s eyebrows raise in surprise instantly. She follows, without so much of a word, and closes the glass doors behind them. “Is everything okay, Miss Grant?”

“God, no.” Cat says, bringing a bottle of imported water from Spain to her lips. She chugs it - downright chugs half the bottle in one fell swoop - then hands it to Kara to hold. “While I, inadvertently, had a lot of fun with you last night. _This_ headache is absolutely killer, and if I had your 20 something metabolism then this wouldn’t be a problem, but. I’m not here to talk about myself, I’m here to ask if _you_ feel better.”

Kara smiles, genuinely bright and fitted with teeth, that it emits a reaction similar from Cat’s. They must look like idiots, she assumes, at 9am on a balcony, staring at each other with 1000 watt smiles. She sits, because she feels as though Cat’s aura will make her float away, and doesn’t have to say anything for Cat to join her immediately.

“Thank you, Miss Grant.” Kara continues, and she absentmindedly places her hand over Cat’s in between them. “You were right. I wasn’t angry at you–well, I _was_.” And Kara’s taking a page out of Cat’s book in revealing her feelings to the appropriate medium, because keeping them bottled away only ends in disaster. “I really was, because I feel like sometimes you don’t notice how hard I try. How hard I try to impress you, to make _you_ happy. And it ends up being this feeling of incompetence over _everything_ else I do.” Her grip tightens, and she vaguely remembers her super strength and pulls away from Cat defensively. She’s eagerly awaiting Cat’s reply, but Cat just allows her a chance to speak - which is more than anyone else, whether it’s her friends or the DEO, has allowed her.

“And I just want to make everyone happy, and I know I can’t.”

Cat’s looking right at her, not through her, but at her. Her hand is still stationed in between them, on the plush couch, and she wiggles her fingers as an invitation for Kara. “I see you, Kara.” Cat looks down, then back up - as though she’s trying to muster up the courage to continue. She chews her bottom lip up against teeth, and Kara hears her heartbeat accelerate. “I wouldn’t have let you stick around for this long if I hadn’t noticed how, well, happy you make me. Whether it’s a benign retrieval of an extra hot latte, or getting me home safely after a reckless night of drinking.”

Kara giggles at that, inches her glasses back as they’ve fallen down her nose, then places her hand over Cat’s again. “You _were_ quite messy, Miss Grant, but.” Cat scowls, and Kara’s quick to correct herself. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

There’s a moment of comfortable silence in between them before Cat speaks. “I’d like another chance at proving myself rightfully capable of containing my liquor.” A pause. “And I’d like to know whether or not James Olsen finally got his head out of his ass.”

Kara tilts her head in confusion, then catches on. “I’d really love that, Miss Grant.”

They’re interrupted before Cat can make any plans, or Kara can bring forth the iPad and let them know there's an availability that works for them. But Kara feels the shift in the air, and shivers when Cat excuses herself and fixes the collar on Kara's shirt as a means of see you later.

-

She’s at her desk, ignoring Winn’s consistent jabbering when Cat places a hand on her shoulder. Kara immediately freaks, and looks up, calming only when Cat’s got a soft smile allocated right on her features.

Cat’s not looking at Kara, though, but rather looking at the excessive post it notes littered around Kara’s desk with small Cs smackdab in the middle of different sized hearts. Kara scrambles to pull them from her desk and into the trash, but Cat merely grins and then says:

“How do you feel about strawberry daiquiris?”

* * *

******Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines:** ** **

* * *

She tells Alex first, because _duh_. Alex _is_ her best friend and personal stylist.

Cat Grant may not have explicitly stated how much of a date this non-date is, but Alex speaks words of comfort that have Kara feeling _encouraged_ \- or maybe _misled_ , but either way, she feels prepared. Has gone as far as practicing topics of conversations, jokes, and subtle ways to work in hints that she’s _not_ Supergirl.

It’s seemingly perfect until Cat’s sliding into the booth right next to Kara, arms brushing, and they’re sharing _one_ menu. Cat has always been the conversation leader, and she rightfully takes the position tonight, but it’s different. She’s asking questions, easily making the flow of the conversation work from the latest drama at work to a book she’d picked up at the airport and wants Kara to read, too.

Kara feels like she’s back in high school, in her little hometown, at the only diner in town with her first boyfriend Carson. And, because her filter is on unbearable levels of low, she lets Cat know.

“The last time I was on a date was 8 years ago.”

“I didn’t know this was a date,” Cat raises an eyebrow, but she doesn’t seem to make any attempt to move away from Kara. “But do go on, I sense a story here.”

“No story. Just that - it was nice then, and it’s nice now.” Kara’s bold with her outright refusal to enunciate on the status of their rendezvous, and she waits for Cat to make a move.

Which comes, nonchalantly, in the form of Cat’s hand falling against her thigh. Her smile is small, but it’s a smile nonetheless. “I took a break from dating after Idris Elba, very stupidly, said no. But,” Cat uses her free hand to reach out for her drink. She takes a sip, which is followed by a low snort, as though she’s remembering the night. “I don’t blame him. The things a drunken Cat Grant will say surrounded by playboy models… well.”

“Well?” Kara’s intrigued now, comfortable with their situation. The alcohol has no effect on her Kryptonian body, but she follows suit with Cat’s actions and takes a sip from her own Long Island Iced Tea - if only for appearance. “What did you say?!”

Cat looks at Kara, devilishly, and brings the martini glass up to her lips. It’s provocative, sultry, and has Kara ogling between Cat’s impeccably green eyes and plush, pink lips.

“Do you believe in love at first sight. Or should I walk by again?”

It’s Kara that buries her face in her hands, ashamed. They’re both laughing, bodies leaning into each other with the sheer force of their shaking.

“Honest to _Rao_?”

“What?”

“ _God_. Honest to _god_ ,” Kara corrects herself, and she plays it off surprisingly well, because Cat still seems embarrassed by her admittance. “Cat Grant, q _ueen of all media_ , thinks ‘do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again’ is a perfectly acceptable pickup line. Probably thinks it’s a _great_ pickup line.” Kara snorts, feels bold by the press of Cat’s hand against her knee.

“Now, me?” Kara may not be under the influence of alcohol, but Cat’s intoxicating on her own - like a personal brand of whiskey, aged just for her. She moves closer, allows her shoulder to rub against Cat’s, Kara’s hair acting as a cascade of blonde shielding them from the outside and creating a bubble just for them. “If I were interested, very interested, I’d say… kissing is the language of love, so how about a conversation?”

Cat looks at her, really looks at Kara, and Kara can hear the beating of her heart increase tenfold. It’s nerve wracking for her, too, but she’s too far gone to hate herself for a moment of bravery. She’s _Supergirl_ , for _fucksake_ , and if she can face monsters than she can face a kitten masquerading as a tiger.

“Hm,” Cat’s hand idles in between them, as though she’s stuck between two deliberate choices. “I prefer the one that goes like this… ‘kissing burns 6.5 calories a minute. Wanna work out?”

For what feels like forever, Kara waits for Cat to close the gap in between them - and when she does, Kara responds with just as much zeal. She cups Cat’s face with both her hands, bringing her unbearably close, and kisses her like worlds haven’t been ripped apart for them to be together.

When Cat finally pulls away, lips swollen and eyes bright, Kara grins.

“I like that one, too.”


End file.
